


Euphoria

by Astrals (Evoxine), Evoxine, Heroine (Evoxine)



Category: EXO (Band), Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses, Marvel Cinematic Universe, NCT (Band), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies), Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Fingering, Body Worship, Breathplay, Bruises, Butt Plugs, Choking, Cock Warming, Crossdressing, Erotic Electrostimulation, Established Relationship, F/F, Genderbending, Genderswap, Intercrural Sex, Love Bites, M/M, Marking, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Piercings, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pseudo-Incest, Public Sex, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Shower Sex, Spit As Lube, Squirting, Strength Kink, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-01-04 13:43:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21198611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evoxine/pseuds/Astrals, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evoxine/pseuds/Evoxine, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evoxine/pseuds/Heroine
Summary: A collection of multifandom drabbles, all featuring the natural phenomenon that is sex.---1. cockwarming - sekai2. intercrural sex/body worship - sekai3. choking/breathplay - sheith4. erotic electrostimulation - thorki5. rough sex - sekai6. crossdressing – thorki7. strength kink/shower sex - dimilix8. genderbend/public sex - sekai9. nipple play/overstimulation - jaewoo





	1. cockwarming; sekai

**Author's Note:**

> If you would like to request a drabble, please refer to [this](https://twitter.com/_seiros/status/1188464768920670212) tweet!  
Check [this](https://bluedveins.wixsite.com/evoxine) link for a list of pairings I write!

It’s almost ten by the time Jongin keys in the code to the apartment and opens the door. He’d stayed back at the office for far too long – every muscle in his body is aching and his eyes have never been so dry.

The lights are dimmed when Jongin enters, tired brain doing it’s best to multitask as Jongin kicks off his shoes, drops his keys on the counter, and scans the area for Sehun all at once.

“Babe?”

There’s no response, but the shoes lying next to his own and the suit jacket carelessly tossed over the back of the couch tells Jongin that his boyfriend is somewhere inside. So he sets his briefcase down and loosens his tie as he walks past the living room and towards their bedroom.

“Babe, are you already as–”

Jongin stops in the doorway, fingers paused at the hollow of his neck as he takes in the sight in front of him. There, sprawled out on the bed on his stomach, is Sehun. The man’s hair is damp, likely from a shower, and his legs are splayed obscenely wide apart. Three fingers, dripping with lube, are pumping in and out of his hole _furiously_.

But something’s not right. Jongin sees the tense set of Sehun’s jaw and the crease between his brows, and he pushes the haze of arousal aside as he strides over to the bed.

“Hey. What’s wrong?”

“Bad day,” Sehun mutters, twisting his fingers almost viciously. “Presentation didn’t go well. Jongin, I need –” He doesn’t finish his sentence, choosing instead to rise up on his knees and wriggle a fourth finger inside.

“Okay, baby.” Jongin leans down and presses his lips to Sehun’s temple. “Give me five minutes to shower and I’ll be right with you, okay?”

He gets a whine in response, but he doesn’t hear it, already halfway to the bathroom.

“I’m here, I’m here.”

He touches Sehun’s wrist, heaving a sigh of relief when Sehun extracts his fingers from his puffy hole and relinquishes his body over to Jongin.

A perfunctory pump of his cock to smear some lube over it and Jongin’s sliding in, balls snug against Sehun’s taint. He drapes himself over Sehun’s back and smiles when he feels his boyfriend’s shoulders relax.

With an arm around Sehun’s middle, Jongin manages to manoeuvre them over onto their sides, one of Sehun’s knees held up to his chest so Jongin can still fuck into that sweet heat.

“You okay?”

“Better,” Sehun mumbles into the pillow, a hand covering the one that Jongin’s got over his heart. Their fingers lace. “Thank you.”

Unlike their usual lovemaking, Sehun stays relatively silent. That’s okay; Jongin relies on small hitches in Sehun’s breath to gauge what’s good and what isn’t, adjusting the angle until Sehun trembles in his arms with every nudge of his cockhead into his prostate.

Jongin snakes his free hand down to Sehun’s cock, spreading the precome around the head before he closes a fist around it.

“You wanna come?”

Sehun nods, moaning softly when Jongin mouths at the juncture of his jaw.

So Jongin picks up his pace, fisting Sehun’s cock to the same rhythm as he rocks into him, and it doesn’t take long until Sehun’s spilling onto the sheets. He clenches down around Jongin, whispers a _come inside me_, and Jongin can’t say no to him.

A tight groan slips out of Jongin’s throat as he empties himself into Sehun’s pliant body.

“Love you,” Sehun manages to say, then he’s out like a light.

Jongin knows from experience that Sehun’s post-sex naps, while deep, never last for more than an hour. Despite being tired himself, he chooses to stay awake and nestled deep inside Sehun’s relaxed hole – when Sehun wakes, he’s going to want more.

  
He’s floating in that pleasant place between consciousness and dreams when he feels Sehun squirm in his arms.

“Mm, you feel so good inside me,” Sehun sighs, ass pushing back into the cradle of Jongin’s hips. It’s slightly uncomfortable, Sehun’s hole wet with Jongin’s come and lube, but they get over it quickly enough.

“Yeah?” Jongin rubs at his eyes and nuzzles into the curve of Sehun’s neck. “You need another orgasm? I can –”

He feels Sehun shaking his head, then Sehun’s easing up and off his cock. “No, it’s okay. You’re tired, I can tell. I’m just gonna clean us up and we’ll go to bed, okay?”

Jongin hums, listening to the sounds of Sehun pattering into the bathroom and the faucet turning on. Sehun makes quick work of the small mess they’ve made, and it isn’t long until Jongin has him in his arms again.

Wordlessly, they settle into the same position and Jongin nudges his half-hard cock back into Sehun’s hole. He’ll likely slip out some time into the night, but if this makes Sehun relax, then Jongin will do this every night if he has to. Besides, he’s getting to slide his cock into one of the sexiest asses he has ever seen – there’s is absolutely nothing to complain about.

The lights turn off. He kisses the back of Sehun’s head.

“Sweet dreams, baby.”

The last thing he hears before he dozes off is a quiet, “Love you so much.”


	2. intercrural/body worship; sekai

The door has barely closed behind them before Sehun finds himself pushed up against the wall, sweater rucked up around his waist and hot hands stroking up his sides. It’s been several hours since the concert has ended, but Sehun is still riding the high of hearing Jongin gushing over him to thousands of fans.

It’s not the first time by any means, but it’s been long enough since the last time that Sehun has forgotten what it felt like. No longer in the honeymoon phase of their relationship, they have both toned down their antics – pushing the boundaries of what their management would allow on stage and in public is a thrill left in the past. Now, they’re just happy that they love each other.

So when Jongin declares that he finds Sehun stupidly handsome during a concert, Sehun is taken completely by surprise.

“I still can’t believe you did that,” Sehun laughs against Jongin’s mouth, helpfully lifting his arms so Jongin can pull the sweater up and off. “Can’t believe you – _mmph_!” Jongin kisses the words right out of him, hand around his jaw to keep him still.

“You looked so fucking _good_ on that stage. Everyone agrees, but too bad they don’t know how good you look off stage, naked in bed, open for me.”

When Sehun moans, Jongin takes the chance to lick into his mouth. Filthy.

It’s a messy stumble to the bed after that, a trail of shoes and socks showing the exact path they took. The back of Sehun’s knees hit the mattress and he falls backwards, air whooshing out of his lungs when Jongin follows and lands on top of him. Those sinful lips instantly latch onto a nipple, working it into a stiff peak before switching to the other one.

They haven’t showered – Sehun knows he probably doesn’t smell too good, despite the deodorant, but that doesn’t seem to deter Jongin one bit. No, the dancer just looks ridiculously smug when he pulls away to examine his handiwork.

“Perfect,” Jongin says, and Sehun gasps in surprise when Jongin plucks at his spit-wet nipples until they ache.

He squirms, sensitive, and Jongin lets up on flooding Sehun’s nerves with pain-pleasure in favour of ridding himself of his hoodie. The garment hits the carpeted floor with a muffled thud and Sehun barely has time to take a breath before Jongin’s mouth is back on his skin again, now marking a line down to his belly. Teeth scrape along his hipbone and Sehun’s back bows.

“You know,” Jongin says, sounding far too casual, “that one of the hottest things in the world is how I can hold your entire waist in my hands when I take you from behind.”

Sehun’s rock hard in his pants and all Jongin has done is kiss him and play with his tits. Sounds about right.

Blessedly, he feels Jongin fiddling with the button of his pants. Yes, take them off, _offoffoff_.

He hears Jongin sigh, a happy puff of air. “And these _thighs_ – deceptively strong, so supple, so gorgeous wrapped around my hips or on either side of my face.”

The pants and underwear come off and Sehun is so close to begging. His cock is an unyielding line of heat against his stomach, tip wet and shiny with precome.

Then Jongin bites the inside of Sehun’s thigh, soothing the sting with his tongue, and Sehun nearly comes.

“Oh fuck, Jongin please –”

“Patience,” Jongin says, the word muffled from how he’s sinking his teeth into another mouthful of Sehun’s thigh. “Gotta mark you up all nice and pretty.”

With Jongin’s hands pinning his wrists down to the bed, Sehun knows struggling is futile. So he simply lies there, cock straining, while Jongin litters his thighs with love bites. Sehun swears he can feel each bite, achy and throbbing, and he can’t wait to see what they’ll look like in the morning.

  
Somehow, he manages not to come.

Jongin flips him around and hitches his hips up, and _oh_, when did Jongin take the rest of his clothes off? Peering blearily over his shoulder, Sehun sees a flash of desire in Jongin’s eyes before the latter looks away, palms smoothing down the curve of Sehun’s back. The weight of Jongin’s cock is delicious, resting between his cheeks.

He spreads Sehun open and Sehun feels his cock leak another string of precome.

“No time tonight,” Jongin mutters regrettably, setting the pad of his thumb over Sehun’s hole and rubbing. Sehun whimpers into the sheets, sad.

“Fuck my thighs,” he blurts, already sounding fucked-out. He clamps his thighs together, ignoring the twinge in his shoulders when he rests his weight on them and gets a hand around his cock. “Just – fuck me _somewhere_, Jongin.”

Jongin obeys, resting one hand on the small of Sehun’s back, the other guiding his cock between Sehun’s bruised thighs. He spits down between their bodies and smears saliva down his cock, gathering up precome to make the slide even smoother.

The first push has him moaning out loud. So soft, so warm… The head of his cock nudges against Sehun’s balls and Jongin’s hands fly to the dips of Sehun’s waist, holding him there as he moves his hips, fucking those milky thighs as fast as he possibly can.

He comes within minutes, orgasm ripping out of him and spilling hot between Sehun’s thighs – if he was still a teenager, the sight of his come smeared all over his own love bites would easily have him well on his way to a second erection.

Mind hazy, Jongin sits back on his heels and rubs his come into Sehun’s skin as the latter fists his cock desperately. Sehun’s face is buried in the sheets, the linen absorbing all of his strung-out cries and pornstar-worthy moans. Jongin gives Sehun’s hole a few more rubs and then Sehun’s coming, shooting across the blanket as his thighs tremble from exertion.

“So beautiful, Sehun. If only everyone knew just how much.”


	3. choking/breathplay; sheith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon, not s8 compliant

Keith gets his first taste of it during a sparring session.

They have an audience, dozens of cadets crammed into the hallway outside and pressed up against the large windows just to get a glimpse. Keith understands – after all, it’s not every day you get to watch the leader of Voltron spar with the Captain of the Atlas.

To most people, sparring with the love of your life is probably not the most romantic way to spend a day off, but Shiro and Keith would beg to differ. Sparring with each other has been a constant in their lives, way before Keith’s messy confession and Shiro’s red-faced, dopey smile. They’re not about to give that up.

In a corner of the room, Shiro shrugs out of his hoodie and folds it up neatly. He really only wears the hoodie because it acts as a cushion for his engagement ring, the black garment contrasting beautifully with the bright shine of silver. Keith wears his around his neck on a thin chain, and he keeps it safely tucked under his compression shirt.

Pulling his hair up into a high bun, Keith calls out a cheeky, “You ready, Shirogane?”

Shiro simply grins at him. _Ugh_, Keith thinks. _Too handsome._

They meet on the mats, aware of the fact that their audience has spilled into the room itself. Heck, Kolivan’s brought a few of the newly recruited Blades with him, too.

Keith catches the training sword that Shiro tosses in his direction and gets into position, blood already thrumming with exhilaration at what’s to come.

“Don’t hold back on me,” Shiro warns, but the way his eyes crinkle only serves to offset his words.

“Never,” Keith returns, and charges.

  
Twenty minutes later and Keith’s sword flies out of his hand. He barely has time to react before Shiro’s barrelling into him, 180 pounds of muscle colliding against his chest. Predictably, Keith goes down, starbursts erupting behind his eyelids.

“Yield,” Shiro purrs, pinning Keith’s hips down with his weight.

Keith would, because Shiro won this fight fair and square, but all he can focus on is the light pressure of Shiro’s prosthetic fingers wrapped around his throat. Vaguely, he hears the cadets cheering and Kolivan telling the other Blades what _not_ to do based on Keith’s performance, but the roar of his blood crests and drowns everything else out.

Then Shiro's fingers flex, and Keith feels his stomach flip. He's always hated being in vulnerable positions, but here, sprawled under Shiro's bulk with that large hand fitted snugly around his neck, Keith finds himself reconsidering.

“Shiro,” he whispers, pupils blown wide.

Shiro stares down at him, at Keith's silent _pleasepleaseShiroplease_ heavy in his gaze. He shifts his hips, just a little, but it's enough to draw Shiro's attention to the problem in Keith's nether regions.

When realisation dawns, Shiro's lips part in wonderment and his grip slackens for a brief second before it tightens. Keith sucks in a breath and swallows, feeling his throat work against Shiro's grip.

“I yield,” he says, loud enough for everyone else to get the hint that their fight is over.

Shiro drags his bottom lip through his teeth, thumb sweeping up to rest in the dip behind the hinge of Keith's jaw. A beat, then Shiro releases Keith and rises to his feet.

As Keith accepts Shiro's proffered hand, he thanks the existence of workout leggings. They're tight enough to prevent any obscene tenting – if Keith had been wearing anything else, the entire Garrison would have something to talk about at dinner.

“I'm gonna shower,” Shiro says, deceptively casual. “Then I'm gonna come by your quarters, alright?”

Keith fights back a shiver.

“Yeah, sounds good.”

  
Keith steps out of the bathroom, stopping water from dripping down his back with a towel draped across his shoulders. He grabs a fresh pair of underwear – boxer shorts that were a recent gift from Shiro, printed with cartoon spaceships – and hops into it as he squeezes water out of the tips of his hair. Across the room, Kosmo’s sprawled out on the floor, emitting constant growls at he wrestles with a toy.

He’s just hanging up his towel when the keypad to his room beeps and the door slides open.

In steps Shiro, looking delightfully comfortable in sweatpants and a cotton tank. His hair is fluffy without any product and Keith really wants to run his fingers through the soft strands.

But there’s a glint in Shiro’s eyes that promptly wipes any and all domestic thoughts out of Keith’s mind.

“Nice underwear,” Shiro quips, checking to make sure that the door is locked. He scratches absently at his jaw; light bounces off the band around his ring finger. Keith’s heart skips a beat.

“Thanks, a cutie gave it to me.”

Keith stays rooted in his spot as Shiro walks up to him, human hand reaching out to settle on his hip while the prosthetic pushes Keith’s damp hair out of his eyes.

“Looks good on you. But I bet it’ll look even better off.” A warm finger plucks at the waistband and Keith feels his dick instantly plumping up. God, he’s too easy when it comes to Shiro.

He leans in, wanting, and Shiro closes the distance between them in a breath, mouth closing over Keith’s and licking into him just the way he likes. Keith presses into Shiro’s heat, moaning when the hand in his hair slips down to the back of his neck.

Shiro breaks their kiss and rests their foreheads together, gaze flicking between Keith’s lips, wet and rosy, and the column of his neck. “You really like this, huh?”

Keith nods, fingers bunching up in the material of Shiro’s tank.

“You really trust me.”

At that, Keith leans away just enough to look Shiro in the eyes.

“Of course, Shiro. Would I agree to spend the rest of my life with you if I didn’t?”

A soft smile, then Shiro kisses the tip of his nose.

“Alright, get on the bed, baby. Gonna make you come twice before I get in you.”

  
True to his word, Keith’s lying in a wet patch of his own come by the time Shiro’s got a lubed finger inching towards his hole. Sprawled out on his stomach with Shiro hovering over his back, Keith’s cock makes a valiant effort at getting hard again.

To his delight (and mild embarrassment), it twitches back to life against the sheets when Shiro wraps his fingers around his neck and _pulls_. Shiro’s face appears in his line of sight, looking so stupidly gorgeous with his hair a mess and a flush riding high on his cheekbones.

Shiro’s lips quirk, then Keith chokes out a whimper when a finger slides into him. Shiro leaves wet, open-mouthed kisses on Keith’s jaw, apparently aware that Keith is too out of it for proper kisses.

It doesn’t take long before Shiro’s slipping in a second finger, then a third, all the while expertly ignoring Keith’s prostate.

“Don’t cry,” Shiro murmurs, “you look so beautiful like this.”

Keith didn’t even realise he was crying.

Shiro fucks into him one last time before he pulls his fingers out. “Turn around for me?”

Keith does, thighs splayed apart to accommodate Shiro’s frame. He shudders when Shiro pushes in, the wide flare of his cockhead always rubbing against his walls in the best way. Another tear slips out of the corner of his eye.

“Okay?”

“Mm,” Keith hums, hooking his ankles around Shiro’s back. “More than okay.”

It starts off slow with a few rocks of Shiro’s hips, but Shiro doesn’t give Keith any time to get his bearings. No, he rises up onto his knees, plants a hand to the side of Keith’s head, and closes the other around Keith’s neck.

“Just tap me if you want me to stop, okay?”

Keith smiles.

Shiro squeezes, hips speeding up until Keith is fighting to keep what little air he has left in his lungs inside. His cock jumps between their bellies, fingers digging craters into the meat of Shiro’s thighs, and he can feel his pulse beating out a rapid rhythm in his throat.

This is _liberating_. He gets enough air to stay conscious, but his head’s starting to swim and everything feels ten times more intense. He nearly breaks Shiro’s skin with his nails when Shiro rubs at his nipples, pleasure shooting from the aching nubs straight down to his dick.

When Shiro drags his thumbnail across the slit of his cock, Keith comes so hard he sees nothing but white.

  
“Back with me?”

Keith squints – he’s in bed and Shiro’s lying next to him, propped up on an elbow and keeping Keith tucked close with a hand around his waist. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

“Have some water,” Shiro says, prosthetic arm floating over to the bedside table and picking up a glass of water. Keith drains it all in one go and clears his throat.

“What happened?”

“You came so hard you passed out. I had time to change the sheets, clean you up, and make sure Kosmo’s bowls are filled before you roused.”

“Did you –”

Keith answers his own question when he rolls over onto his side. The movement alerts him to the plug currently resting in his hole, base snug between his asscheeks – the only reason they use plugs is to keep Shiro’s come inside.

Shiro is looking at him with such fondness that Keith wants to bury his face into his pillow and squeal.

“So.” Shiro runs the back of his knuckles down the side of Keith’s neck. “Choking, huh?”

Shrugging, Keith tugs the covers up around his shoulders and burrows into Shiro’s warmth. “What can I say? Anything you do is hot to me, apparently.”

After all, he isn’t lying. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i write for sheith under the pseud Astrals!


	4. electrostimulation; thorki

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set in thor: ragnarok
> 
> this got a lot sappier (and angstier) than i had intended...  
oh well, i love them and they give me a lot of feels so

Loki has used his guile and wit for many, many things in his lifetime, but never did he think he would be using it for this. There, lying still on the floor in his chambers, is his brother. Sweat-streaked, bloodstained, and smelling of ozone. Loki drinks in the sight of it all.

The door slides shut behind him and Loki takes a tentative step forward – Thor might appear to be out cold, but Loki knows better. It doesn’t help that they left things off on a bad note before the fight, either.

As expected, Thor speaks when Loki is but a couple of steps closer. His eyes are still closed. “Why did you have me brought here?”

Instinct has him already prepared to lie, but Loki bites it back and simply shrugs.

“I do not trust the healers here.”

At that, Thor cracks an eye open. “Oh? I assumed it was because I lost you a great deal of money and you’re here to get it back.”

“I never cared about the money, Thor.” Loki pauses, now standing mere inches away from the crook of Thor’s elbow. “I never even placed a bet.”

Thor stares up at him, eyes somehow bluer now that all of his golden hair isn’t around to steal the attention away from them. Loki stares right back. A heavy minute or two goes by, then Thor opens his mouth.

“Well, whatever _is_ it that you want, brother?”

“I wish to tend to your wounds.”

  
The tub is ten times smaller than the one in the Champion’s chambers, but it’s the best Loki can offer. At least the water is warm. Thor sits inside, knees drawn up and a wary gaze fixed on Loki’s hands as the sorcerer draws upon the healing seiðr inside him. It’s a foreign feeling, much like how he thinks it would feel riding a horse again after centuries of not doing so.

Despite his regenerative abilities, Thor still feels pain during the time it takes for his wounds to heal. Ever since he was a child, Thor has learned how to mask the pain, to tell his allies that he’s alright, that he can go further, do more. But Loki has always been able to read between the fine lines.

Now, knelt beside the tub, Loki sees the discomfort in the set of Thor’s shoulders and the line of tension down his throat. He raises his hands, healing seiðr the colour of a rising sun, and waits for Thor’s nod before he lets it wash over his brother.

In mere seconds, Thor is all patched up.

Loki hears the quiet exhale of relief that escapes from between Thor’s lips, followed immediately by Thor’s deep rumble of, “Thank you, brother.”

He looks over at Thor, eyes instantly drawn to a drop of water that rolls down the curve of Thor’s neck, over the jut of his clavicle and down his chest before it finally breaks over the surface of the water. When he looks back up at his brother, he sees Thor’s gaze on him.

Thor shifts, rising to his feet, and sends water sloshing over the edge of the tub.

The number of times Loki has seen Thor fresh out of a bath numbers in the thousands, but each time still sends a jolt of want running through him, as though Thor commanded that particular type of electricity too. There’s just something about the gleam of soapy water against tanned skin that has the thought of _art_ dancing on the tip of Loki’s tongue. He’s never uttered it before, of course, for he simply cannot afford to inflate Thor's already massive ego. But he has thought of doing so, many, many times.

“Loki,” says Thor. “What do you want?”

Loki stands, chest-to-chest with Thor.

“You.”

  
He has missed this.

The feeling of cool sheets against his back and the scorching heat of Thor pressed down his front, those large hands enveloping his wrists and Thor’s warm mouth covering his own. Everything comes together so easily that it’s easy to assume they’ve done this countless times.

They have, (what seems like) a lifetime ago.

“I’m still angry at you, you know.”

Thor’s beard scratches at his cheek and his lips leave goosebumps in their wake. Loki swallows, parts his legs to let Thor nudge a thigh in the space, and closes his eyes when Thor sucks a particularly large bruise over the flutter of his pulse.

“I know.”

“I still want you to come back to me, you know.”

Just millimetres away from his own mouth is Thor’s, lips pink and slick with their shared spit. Loki leans up and kisses him, heart in his throat.

“I know.”

His wrists are released and Loki shivers when those hot palms slide down the sides of his waist to fit around the sharp jut of his hips. Thor’s bulk follows, wide shoulders nudging his thighs a little farther apart as he settles between them.

“I still love you, you know.”

“I know.” It comes out as a whisper.

Thor brushes a kiss across the inside of Loki’s thigh. Another one to the base of Loki’s cock. Loki suddenly wishes Thor still had his hair for him to bury his fingers in.

“I still love you. So much.”

“I know.”

Thor takes Loki down his throat.

  
Thor is snug inside him, where he belongs, and Loki locks his ankles together behind Thor’s back to keep him there. Fitting a hand around Thor’s jaw, Loki draws him close enough for their noses to brush. His eyes are the colour of a storm, lit bright with electric fire.

“Brother,” he murmurs, thumbing at the rise of Thor’s cheekbone. Thor’s pupils dilate just a little more. “Brother. Let me see.”

There’s a moment where Thor seems to mull over what it is Loki wants, then he huffs out a laugh.

“I should have known. It is always power that turns you on.”

Loki opens his mouth to reply, but Thor cuts him off before he can even begin to form the first word. His eyes spark, lightning dancing across his irises down to the ends of his lashes. Loki holds his breath – up close, the sight is breathtaking.

The lightning rolls down Thor’s back, almost lazily. At the first prick of energy against his skin, Loki chokes on a moan and hitches Thor just a little deeper inside.

Surprisingly, Thor doesn’t tease. Loki had expected it, even prepared for it, but Thor doesn’t try to get him to beg. Instead, he lets the electricity flow freely as he fucks deep into his brother, a hand wrapped loosely around Loki’s neck and mouths a hair’s breadth apart. Thor drinks in each and every one of Loki’s sounds, sears the image of Loki’s face into his mind, all flushed cheeks and thick lashes clumped together with unshed tears.

It’s unlike anything Loki has ever felt. Hot and cold at the same time, all-consuming and setting every single nerve in his body buzzing. It’s the strongest wherever they’re touching – a part of Thor transferred to him, if only momentarily. Thor’s cock is a hot brand inside of him, each nudge of the cockhead against his prostate sending pain-pleasure shooting up his spine.

When Thor pushes that much deeper and bites down on the meat of Loki’s shoulder, lightning jumping between Thor’s teeth and his flesh, Loki comes with a scream.

Not long after, Thor spends inside him, tongue curling around the syllables of Loki’s name. Loki quakes and feels his insides light on fire.

  
The sheets are tangled up around his shins and Thor is a solid presence against his back.

It’s been a long time since they’ve cuddled after sex. In recent decades, cuddling usually leads to many emotions left unsaid, dealt with through snark on Loki’s part and frustration on Thor’s. But this time, Loki settles into the safety of Thor’s arms and Thor breathes in the scent of his brother.

“It was never about power, Thor.”

“What?”

Loki looks down at where one of Thor’s hands rests against his heart.

“All the times we’ve lain together. Apart from your prowess in battle or performance in the training ring, there is another common factor.”

He can hear the cogs in Thor’s mind turning.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand, brother.”

Loki sighs, fighting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. How is it, that of all people, he just so happens to love an idiot?

“It’s you, Thor. All that power inside you is just a bonus. You can be bound, hands and feet, Mjolnir in shards and no longer singing in your grasp, and I would still lie with you.”

The kiss on the crown of his head is so light that Loki barely feels it. But he does, and when Thor tightens his hold around him, Loki can’t find it in him to complain. Later, when things go back to how they have been, them apart in more ways than one, at least he’ll have this memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i write for thorki under the pseud Heroine!


	5. rough sex; sekai

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon!au, right before the debut of super m
> 
> other applicable kinks: rimming, spit as lube, marking (love bites, bruises)

It’s too easy to figure out what Sehun’s thinking. He knows him too well, knows what makes Sehun tick and what has him closing off. Right now, Jongin takes in the sight of a set jaw, a flat gaze, and a straight spine: he knows _exactly_ what’s upsetting him. 

Baekhyun keeps talking, oblivious to how each excited sentence about SuperM’s impending debut has Sehun’s expression hardening into stone. He refuses to look in Jongin’s direction – as expected – and Jongin is torn between fondness and amusement. Will Sehun last another ten minutes of this before he snaps? Jongin doubts he will. 

He stands and pretends to yawn, arms coming up over his head for a much-needed stretch. They’ve had two shows in a row, so acting as if he’s exhausted isn’t exactly tough.

“I’m gonna turn in for the night,” he announces. 

Amongst the chorus of _goodnight_s and _sleep well_s, Jongin easily pinpoints the absence of Sehun’s voice. But that’s alright, because he knows Sehun will follow. So he leaves Baekhyun’s room without looking back, ears perked up for the sounds of Sehun’s familiar stride. 

Jongin’s a few feet away from the door to his room when he hears it. He turns to look down the hallway, and what he sees has his stomach doing flips.

Petulant. There isn’t a better word to describe the expression on Sehun’s face. Jongin thinks it’s fucking adorable. He gets the door unlocked and enters, holding it open until Sehun’s inside before he shuts it and turns to look at the other man. 

“Why the long face?”

It’s a stupid question and they both know it, Sehun’s lip curling in irritation while Jongin tries and fails to suppress his grin. 

“They’re taking you away from me again.”

Humming, Jongin reaches out to pinch the sharp point of Sehun’s chin between two fingers.

“No one can take me away from you, love.”

The flush that sweeps over the high points of Sehun’s cheekbones is a lovely sight, one that Jongin will never tire of. But judging by the furrow in his brow, Sehun doesn’t seem appeased whatsoever. He steps closer, bunching up the material of Jongin’s sweater in his fist, and that’s when Jongin notices the flicker of uncertainty in Sehun’s eyes. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Wordlessly, Sehun leans in to tuck his face into the crook of Jongin’s neck, breathing in the scent of body wash and aftershave. Jongin lets him, winding an arm around a slender waist and holding him close. When he presses his lips to the sensitive spot behind Sehun’s ear, he feels a breath shudder out of Sehun’s frame. 

“I’ve seen how the younger ones look at you.”

Jongin curls the fingers of his free hand around Sehun’s neck, thumb against the steady flutter of his pulse. 

“And how do they look at me?”

“Like they’d do anything to be me, if only they knew.”

Oh, how Jongin _loves_ it when Sehun gets unreasonably jealous and possessive. Neither one of them are strangers to the feeling, not when they perform in front of thousands of hungry eyes, bodies no longer their own property. But they have learned to rein it in over the years, so when it does flare up, it gets ugly pretty quickly.

Jongin peppers the side of Sehun’s head with kisses. 

“I only want you, you know that.”

Sehun shrugs, still refusing to lift his head and meet Jongin’s gaze. 

“Hard to want me when I’m not there.”

“_Easier_ to want you when you’re not there.”

When he hears a sniff, Jongin grabs Sehun by the shoulders and forces him back. Sehun looks at him reluctantly, eyes suspiciously bright. 

“How long has it just been you for me?”

Sehun huffs, but deigns to answer. Jongin smiles.

“Years,” he says, leaning in to brush their noses together. “Have I ever once not wanted you?”

When Sehun remains silent, Jongin squeezes his hip hard enough to leave bruises and watches as brown bleeds into black in Sehun’s eyes.

“_Have I?_”

Sehun relents with a small shake of his head.

  
It’s only when their clothes are on the carpeted floor and Jongin’s sandwiched between Sehun’s legs that Sehun chooses to speak.

“Make me feel it.” Fingers skate down his body to brush over the faint marks that Jongin’s earlier grip left on his hip. Jongin traces the path Sehun’s fingers made with his own lips. “I want to feel you even after you’ve left.”

Jongin can definitely do that. He tells Sehun as much, in-between nips to smooth, sensitive skin on the inside of Sehun’s thigh, teeth sinking into supple flesh. Sehun sighs, a soft and thready sound, and fists the sheets, head falling back against the pillows in a sign that Jongin has free reign to do anything and everything he wants. 

Years ago, back when they first started sneaking into each other’s rooms, they took the utmost care of not leaving a single mark on the other person. But as time went by and no one seemed to notice, Jongin took a little leap of faith. He still remembers the first time he sucked a bruise right over Sehun’s pulse point – Sehun had come instantly, spilled white all over himself, and although he had to spend a week winding scarves around his neck, Sehun came back for more. 

It’s easier to leave marks when they’re not on a tour, but even when they are, they find a way. 

Anything above the waist is too dangerous, so Jongin gets comfortable between Sehun’s legs and paints the once-flawless skin with shades of purple and red. By the time he’s satisfied with his artwork, Sehun’s leaking onto his belly, balls drawn up snug against the base of his cock. 

With a hand behind each of Sehun’s knees, Jongin pushes them up towards his chest and leans down to lick a rough stripe from his winking hole and up over the curve of his balls, before stopping to mouth at the thick vein running up the underside of Sehun’s cock. 

Sehun seems entirely lost in sensation, hands moving from the sheets to tangle fingers in Jongin’s head only to turn to return to the sheets again. 

Jongin presses his face closer until all of his senses are overwhelmed by Sehun alone. He fits his mouth over the rosebud entrance, tongue working at the tight furl until it starts to bloom under his touch. 

There’s lube in the bathroom, but Jongin simply wets his own finger with spit and rubs at Sehun’s hole.

“You wanted to feel it, right?”

At Sehun’s breathless _yes_, Jongin pushes in. 

It must burn with discomfort, but Sehun moans and clutches down around Jongin’s finger, greedy with need. Jongin licks at where they’re joined, gathering the spit around Sehun’s hole for much-needed lubrication as he works his finger deeper. With his free hand, Jongin cups Sehun’s balls and gives them a firm tug. 

Sehun whines, and another precome pearls at the tip of his cock. 

Jongin fucks him with the digit until Sehun is just about open enough for a second finger. That goes in dry, and Jongin spreads them apart to lick at the space between. He spits on Sehun’s hole, fingers working to push the wetness in, and curls them with practised precision. Sehun’s spine curves, muscles whipcord tense and cock drooling, and cries out for more, more, more. 

The third finger has Sehun wincing, but when Jongin starts to pull his fingers out to wet them, Sehun stops him with a hand around his wrist. His gaze is pleading, needy, and Jongin can’t bear to deny Sehun what he wants. 

So he spits on Sehun’s hole again and plunges three fingers back inside, mouth closing around the head of Sehun’s flagging erection in an attempt to distract him from the pain. It works, and Sehun stops instinctively fighting the intrusion in favour of rocking up into the wet heat of Jongin’s mouth. When Jongin thinks Sehun’s loose enough, he drags his fingertips along Sehun’s prostate once before extracting his fingers. 

Rising up on his knees, he smears precome over his cock, a crude imitation of lube. At least there’s copious amounts of it, Jongin thinks. 

Sehun spreads his legs for him, ankles locking behind Jongin’s back when he’s in place, absently rubbing the slick head of his cock back and forth over Sehun’s hole.

“Okay?”

“Mm,” Sehun murmurs, a faint blush riding up the tantalising column of his neck. He moans, jaw slack, when Jongin slips in, pausing when the head is in to give Sehun a few moments to adjust. Then, Jongin thrusts his hips forward without any warning whatsoever, ripping a cry right out of Sehun’s throat.

It’s fast, rough, and riding the fine line between pleasure and pain. 

Sehun’s erection is a swollen brand of heat against his belly, and it twitches when Jongin grabs Sehun by the hips and yanks him down onto his cock. His grip is tight, bordering on possessive, and Jongin wonders if Sehun can tell through. He looks up to see Sehun looking at him through his lashes, clumped together with unshed tears, and he gets his answer. 

Collecting the precome that has pooled in Sehun’s navel, Jongin spreads it over his own cock and fucks back in, punching what little air there is in Sehun’s lungs right out of him. He sets a brutal pace, one that leaves Sehun a gasping and shuddering mess, skin sweat-slicked and blood thrumming through his veins. 

When Jongin leans down and closes his teeth around a peaked nipple, Sehun comes with a violent jerk and a scream that Jongin just manages to silence with a hand. 

At Sehun’s gasp of his name, the syllables weighted with wonderment, Jongin empties himself inside the man he loves(!) and groans at the hot clutch of Sehun’s walls around him, milking him for all he’s worth. 

Amidst the rush of pleasure, he feels a soft mouth against his neck, and he thinks Sehun just might love him, too. 

  
Sehun’s sprawled out on the bed, all previous traces of unhappiness gone from his face. He watches as Jongin cleans him up, wiping his torso clean before dipping the washcloth between his legs. 

“Does it hurt?” Jongin passes the cloth as gently as he can over Sehun’s sore hole, eyes fixed on his face for any signs of discomfort. 

“A little,” Sehun admits. “But it’s what I wanted. I'll feel you for days.”

Jongin slips his index finger inside and feels traces of his own come. Sehun hums, content. 

Tossing the washcloth aside, Jongin scoots up the bed and settles his chin onto Sehun’s shoulder. Sehun rubs the pad of his thumb across Jongin’s cheekbone, eyes lidded, and Jongin feels heat flare along the path of Sehun’s touch. 

“I’m never going to want anyone else, okay?” 

“You shouldn’t promise something like that.”

“It’s not a promise. It’s a simple fact. You’re all I want.”

Sehun looks away, but he doesn’t turn onto his side, and Jongin counts that as a victory. One small step at a time – they’ll get there. 


	6. crossdressing; thorki

It’s no secret that half the student body finds Loki… eccentric. 

He’s the president of the physics club, a member of the volleyball team, _and_ one of the leads in every single play that the theatre puts out. His nails are always painted a glossy black, natural curls straightened out into soft, sleek strands, and he looks infinitely better in mini skirts than plain ol’ pants. It’s just how it is and how it has been ever since he enrolled with his adopted brother two years ago. 

Oh, there’s also the undisputed, but also widely undiscussed, fact that Loki and his brother are far too attached at the hip for general comfort. For the mere presence of Thor, one of the university’s best linebackers in years, standing at almost a head taller than Loki’s already impressive six foot and built like a wall of solid muscle, easily wards off any whispers. Some slip through the cracks, but even so, Loki never seems fazed by them. 

It’s no secret that half the student body finds Loki eccentric, but it’s also no secret that the other half of the student body finds Loki absolutely captivating. 

  
With one smooth turn of the wheel, Thor slots the car perfectly into the lot and turns off the engine. It’s Saturday, and typically neither of them would have any reason to be here, but Thor has a home game today and Loki never fails to be there in the bleachers cheering him on. 

“Sif here yet?”

Loki looks over at him, dark lashes framing eyes the colour of a lush forest, and shrugs. “Not sure,” he says, absently chewing on his bottom lip. When he releases it from between his teeth, Thor can’t help but eye the bitten flesh, plump and red. “She told me she left her house ten minutes ago, but you know how she is.” 

In preparation to step out of the car, Loki uncrosses his ankles and twists for the door handle, the little action enough to lift his hip and have the soft fabric of his skirt shift. Thor gets an eyeful of milky skin and the barest peek of a curve of a perky cheek, but it’s enough to get his heart pounding in the way it always has – and always will – around Loki. 

Figuring out their relationship had been tricky. Over a few months, they had to learn how to re-navigate their way around each other, the change in their dynamic forced out by liquor-loose tongues and years of pent up longing. Not many know of their relationship, although most have a suspicion, and the pair have only made it clear to their parents and closest friends. 

Hiding it every day is tough, especially when all Loki wants is to sit on Thor’s lap out in the open quad and braid his brother’s hair, when all Thor wants is to be able to grab Loki by the neck, a finger below his chin, and kiss him breathless in the middle of the hallway. 

But they don’t regret it, not when they get to fall into bed together, sometimes riding the post-orgasm wave and other times simply exhausted, with Thor’s chest pressed up against Loki’s and a thick thigh snug between slender ones. Loki gets (too many) kisses to his cheek and jaw, the scratch of Thor’s beard now soothing and something he enjoys. He falls asleep to the gentle swipe of Thor’s thumb across his belly, and Thor himself drifts off to the floral scent of Loki’s shampoo. 

The first time Thor entered Loki, neither one of them lasted very long. Thor had been Loki’s first, and the mere thought that this is something of Loki’s that will _always_ be his… well, surrounded by wet heat and sinful noises, Thor managed to drag it out for another minute or so before he spilled. Loki followed right after, Thor’s name on his tongue and Thor’s seed in his ass. 

But as the saying goes, practice makes perfect. They’ve had a lot of practice.

“Wait.” Thor closes his fingers around Loki’s wrist and tugs him back. “Don’t go yet.”

“Hm?”

Thor’s hand moves from Loki’s wrist to his upper thigh. “Your skirt’s a little short today, baby. Any reason why?”

Suddenly coy, Loki lets Thor dip his fingers beneath the pleats, questing further north until they brush against the thin band of his thong. Thor sighs, the sound a mixture of delight and exasperation, and the corner of Loki’s mouth quirks. 

“Was sleepy and didn’t really want to think about my outfit, so I just put on the first thing I grabbed.”

“You sure you weren’t just trying to make me late for my game?”

The windows are tinted and they’ve parked facing a wall – a habit they’ve picked up after they almost got caught fucking in the car once. So when Loki hums in mock contemplation and spreads his legs apart, Thor doesn’t hesitate before he flips up the front of Loki’s skirt. 

“And why would I do that, Thor?”

“Because,” Thor says lovingly, stroking the heft of Loki’s cock, warm and encased in silk, “you like it when you watch my games with my come in your greedy little hole.”

Loki’s top, while black to match his blood-red skirt (Thor’s favourite colour), leaves little to the imagination as well, what with how thin the fabric is. It doesn’t take much effort to find the outline of Loki’s nipple piercing, not when his nipples are already pebbled and begging to be bitten.

“Oops,” Loki says, pushing up into Thor’s touch. He’s clearly not sorry, but Thor isn’t complaining. “I suppose coming early has its perks?”

Another sigh, then Thor moves his seat back and pats his knee. “C’mon then, sweetheart. Let’s give you what you want.”

  
Skirt hiked up to his hips and the string of his underwear tugged to one side, Loki moans against Thor’s mouth as his brother rubs a slick fingertip against his hole. They’re always prepared, a bottle of lube and a plug stored in the car and their respective bags – Loki is insatiable, and Thor’s biggest weakness is his brother begging for his cock. 

It’s always a tight fit when they fuck in the front seat, but Loki prefers it to the extra space in the back. This way, he gets to feel all of Thor’s body heat against his skin and the insistent nudge of Thor’s erection along his inner thigh. Thor holds him steady with a hand flush against the small of his back while the other works between his cheeks – he’s fully surrounded by his brother, and Loki wouldn’t want it any other way. 

Still somewhat open from last night, Thor finds little resistance when he pushes the first finger in. Loki squirms in pleasure, grip tightening in Thor’s hair as he rocks down on the digit. 

He moves just enough to bring his pierced nipple up to Thor’s kiss-bitten lips. Attuned to Loki’s every want and need, Thor immediately takes it into his mouth, tongue flicking over the jewellery at a speed he’d long since perfected. 

“Thor,” Loki gasps, cock leaking from within its confines. The fabric’s damp and sticking to his skin, a true testament to how well Thor can play him in such a short span of time. Loki may always be the one who entices his brother with a flash of leg or the knowledge he’s gone commando for a day, but Thor never fails to wrestle control back into his own hands.

Thor hums happily around the nub, rolling it between his teeth as he starts to work a second finger in. 

When he lets it go, it’s stiff and swollen, and Loki’s cheeks are deliciously flushed. 

“You’re so beautiful, brother,” Thor tells him, all earnest affection. “And it’s not even what you wear, although I love how your ass looks in a pencil skirt and your legs in mini skirts. It’s the way the corner of your eyes crinkle when you laugh, the way you tuck your hair behind your ear, the way you light up when you see me.”

“Liar, I don’t light up when I see you,” Loki mumbles, lips parting in pleasure when Thor spreads both fingers inside him. Thor simply smiles and kisses Loki on the neck, right over the flutter of his pulse. 

“I love you,” Thor finishes, and crooks his fingers. 

Loki shudders in his hold and Thor suspects it’s not from the pressure against his prostate. 

“Fill me, brother, please” he whispers, reaching back with his own hand to bully a finger in. Two of Thor’s and one of his own – it should be enough.

It requires a bit of manoeuvring, but they manage to peel Loki’s panties off. 

Loki’s erection now exposed, Thor takes a few seconds to swipe off a bead of precome and lay it over his tongue. 

“You’re beautiful _and_ you taste wonderful.”

Loki blushes and dips down to fist Thor’s cock. The footballer lets him, watching as Loki rearranges himself into a position that will let him take Thor as deep as he can go. Then, in a single breath, he sinks down. 

A pinched cry escapes from Loki’s throat, the sound quickly transitioning into a moan that stokes the fire in Thor’s blood. He grips Loki’s hips, Loki himself quickly finding purchase on Thor’s shoulders, and as Thor starts thrusting up, Loki rocks down. 

It’s a synergy that comes naturally to them, even back when they first started fumbling with each other’s bodies under the safety of their covers.

Thor keeps his gaze fixed on his brother’s face, cataloguing each and every sign of pleasure that filts across those delicate features. God, Loki is _perfect_ – sometimes, Thor finds himself counting his lucky stars that Loki is his. 

Able to locate Loki’s prostate with his eyes closed and his hands bound (they’ve tried it before), Thor makes sure to brush against it with each thrust. When they’re home, in their small apartment and spread out on their bed, Thor likes to take his time, purposefully ignoring Loki’s sweet spot. But right now, when he’s got to be out on the field in fifteen minutes, he needs to satisfy Loki as quickly as possible. 

Loki doesn’t seem to be complaining, breath punching out of his lungs with each snap of Thor’s hips. He tugs at his cock, the head rosy and wet with his own slick, and leans down to press their mouths together. 

“Thor,” Loki breathes. Their noses brush and Thor grinds up into the clutch of Loki’s hole, savouring the gasp he gets in reward. 

“Yeah?”

Loki’s hands come to cup Thor’s jaw. Thor can feel the tackiness of Loki’s precome, but he doesn’t care, not when there’s a look in Loki’s eyes that tells him he’s going to love what he hears next. 

“I love you. So much. I will forever be indebted to our parents for bringing me into your life.”

Thor kisses him, unable to speak thanks to the huge lump in his throat. He kisses him again as he drags the pad of his thumb over the slit of Loki’s cock, then again as he squeezes a finger in alongside his cock. 

When Loki wrenches his mouth away, Thor knows what’s about to come. 

Loki moves his skirt aside just in time. He comes all over Thor’s bare chest, clamping down so tightly around Thor that he has no choice but to let Loki milk him for all he’s worth. 

  
Thor pushes a lock of hair off Loki’s damp forehead. He’s still inside Loki, the latter a little too fucked out to do much else except to hum in contentment, cheek resting on Thor’s shoulder. Fond, Thor squeezes Loki’s ass and kisses him on the forehead. 

“Baby, I’m due on the field in… seven minutes.”

If there’s one thing that gets Loki moving, it’s the prospect of seeing Thor out on the field, doing what he does best – apart from giving Loki mind-blowing orgasms and loving him to the moon and back, of course. 

They clean up with wet wipes, Thor bringing out a plug in the same colour as Loki’s skirt. He slips it in as soon as he eases out of Loki, chuckling when Loki wriggles in satisfaction. 

“Sit on the first row,” Thor says, waiting for Loki to pull on his panties. The way he slides the tiny piece of lingerie on over those sinfully long legs is a dream. “I don’t want anyone looking up your skirt.”

Loki rolls his eyes. “No one would dare, Thor.” He smooths out the front of his skirt and checks his reflection in the mirror. “But I’ll sit on the first row, just for you.”

They get out of the car and part ways soon after, Loki heading off to find Sif and their other friends while Thor heads into the locker rooms to change. 

When the match is about to begin, Loki makes sure he’s front and centre. He tracks Thor’s bulk as his brother comes out from the building and heads for the field, the expression on his face one of determination. 

Thor spots him and sends him a wave, one that Loki returns with a smile. 

The sun is shining, the air is crisp, and his brother loves him. It’s a good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uwu i just want them to be in love and have indulgent sex 24/7


	7. strength kink; dimilix

Felix hates to admit it, and he would stab someone in the eyes with absolutely no remorse if they so dared to even imply it, but he loves watching Dimitri train. 

There’s just something about the way he moves, so light on his feet for how much power he holds in his frame. Golden hair pulled back, eyepatch tied securely in place, one of the many available training lances honoured to be in his grip. Felix watches from the shadows as Dimitri and Byleth spar, King and Archbishop of a united Fódlan evenly matched in all aspects – save for strength. 

Despite all those years spent on the battlefield, Felix has yet to come across an opponent, man or woman, stronger than the man who falls asleep by his side every night. And that fact absolutely _thrills_ him, because while everyone else might get to witness Dimitri’s power out in battle, Felix is the only one who gets to experience it first-hand in bed. 

Sunlight gleams off the sweat on Dimitri’s skin and Felix instinctively tightens his fingers around the hilt of his sword, the discomfort of metal digging into his palm enough to stop him from sprinting out across the field and licking a stripe up Dimitri’s neck. He grits his teeth and continues watching, taking in the way Dimitri’s muscles move as he swings his lance, biceps bunching obscenely with each parry and thrust. 

“Say, you’re looking quite flushed,” Sylvain quips, materializing out of nowhere like the goddamn ghoul he is. Felix scowls, hating how his best friend reads his face like he’s an open children’s book.

“Shut up.”

Sylvain sets a clammy palm on Felix’s forehead and frowns thoughtfully. “Is our favourite Royal Consort getting a fever? Or perhaps he’s – _OW!_”

“Go away or I’ll stick you in the dungeons,” Felix snaps, knowing that his face is as red as Dorothea’s favourite lipstick. Sylvain, despite the blooming bruise on his ribs, cackles with glee. He laughs so loudly, in fact, that Dimitri and Byleth pause to glance over. 

Oh, Felix is going to kill him. But before he can even think of moving his pinky, he hears:

“Break?”

Byleth must have agreed, because the next thing Felix knows, Sylvain has disappeared and Dimitri is all that fills his line of sight. Felix, brain having short-circuited, stares up at his husband’s terribly handsome face and blinks. 

“Hi,” Dimitri says with an amused smile. “Have you been here long?”

_Been here since you took off your stupid coat, you stupid – _

“No.” At least his lie sounds somewhat natural. “Only a short while.”

Dimitri tilts his head and Felix watches his tiny ponytail bob with the movement. Ugh, cute.

“Hm, you do look like you got quite a workout in. A cold shower would do wonders for that flush.” There’s a sparkle in his eyes that tells Felix his comment isn’t as innocent as it sounds. 

So he stands, sheaths his sword, and grabs the training lance out of Dimitri’s hand. It lands on the ground with a heavy thud and Dimitri spares it a surprised glance over his shoulder as Felix yanks him right out of the courtyard. 

  
Water sluices down the plane of his back and Felix muffles a moan into soapy skin as his King sucks a nice bruise into the flesh of his neck. An arm under his buttocks is the only thing keeping him above the ground while the fingers of Dimitri’s free hand dips between his cheeks to shower his hole with affectionate pets. 

It’s infuriating, how Felix lives for the fact that Dimitri can pick him up with one arm and not falter in the slightest. Dimitri has long since picked up on what gets him going – ever since their wedding a mere five months ago, the number of times they’ve fucked while standing numbers in the dozens.

Felix kicks Dimitri with the heel of his foot and mutters, “Get on with it, we don’t have all day.”

“I’m King,” Dimitri laughs, “I can take all day if you want. You’d like that, I know.”

Felix blushes to the tips of his ears. “I swear to god, Blaiddyd, if you don’t – _oh fuck yes_,” the last couple of syllables crack as Dimitri slips a finger in, the sudden intrusion taking Felix by surprise and sending him rutting up against Dimitri’s abdomen. 

“Mouthy,” Dimitri quips, and captures that very mouth in a kiss. 

Filthy. That's the best word to describe how Dimitri kisses. That very tongue has explored the entirety of Felix’s body and he can still remember how it feels against his skin, dipping into his hole and swiping over the weeping slit of his cock. Felix nips at it and Dimitri lets him, always indulgent when Felix wants it most.

That finger strokes gently over Felix’s prostate, enough for precome to bead at the tip of his cock but not enough to push him over the edge. Which is good, because Felix wants to come with Dimitri inside him, wants to hold onto those broad shoulders for dear life as Dimitri bounces him on his cock. 

It isn’t long before Dimitri squeezes in another finger, gaze fixed on Felix’s face as he chases after some friction, features flooding with pleasure.

“You’re so beautiful, ‘Lix.”

“Don’t call me that,” Felix snaps, words lacking any heat. But when he sees the softness in Dimitri’s eyes, he can’t help but smile, and Dimitri rewards him with a crook of his fingers. 

Gasping, Felix shakes the water out of his eyes and surges in for another kiss, angling his hips in an attempt to coax Dimitri’s fingers deeper. 

“Bed?”

Felix growls in warning, teeth catching on the flesh of Dimitri’s lip and drawing blood.

Dimitri simply chuckles, “Alright, alright. No bed.”

A third finger, a taste of the burn that Felix will feel when those fingers are inevitably replaced with Dimitri’s cock. He thirsts for it, so much so that he waits barely a minute before he demands for it. 

  
Felix can feel Dimitri _everywhere_. Dimitri is inside, he’s to his front, left, right, and back. Lips are sealed over his pulse point, a large hand is spread out over the small of his back, and Dimitri’s frame is a thick line of heat against his chest. Oh, and not to mention the cock – as impressive as the man himself, by the way – that is currently keeping him full.

The hand on his back moves, slides down to curl around the curve of a supple thigh, and Felix’s pulse jumps even more. The other hand does the very same, and after a chaste kiss to swollen lips, Dimitri lifts Felix up just a couple of inches and pulls him back down. 

Just like that, with Felix’s fingers buried in wet strands and thumb resting over the puckered skin of Dimitri’s scar, they make love. His pleasure is completely in Dimitri’s hands (quite literally) and Dimitri takes care of it so well, the grip on his thighs as strong as the grip on Areadbhar during battle. 

It’s easy for Felix to come like this, with the head of Dimitri’s cock pressing up against his prostate with each thrust, so he distracts himself by tracing one of the many scars dusted along Dimitri’s shoulders and down his back. 

“Tickles,” Dimitri says, nuzzling the crest of Felix’s clavicle. How does he not sound remotely winded from all the physical work he’s doing? After a particularly nice bounce, Dimitri peers up at him, smiles proudly, and asks, “Feels good?”

Felix rolls his eyes. “Yes, idiot, it feels amazing.”

“Mm, that’s good to hear.” The words have barely left Dimitri’s mouth when he starts to pick up the pace, each drop of Felix’s weight sending sparks shooting up his spine. Felix digs his nails into Dimitri’s flesh and hangs on for real life. 

Minutes later and he’s moaning shamelessly into Dimitri’s ear, volume and pitch increasing in intensity until he spills. Dimitri doesn’t let up even as Felix’s come paints his torso and swirls down the drain, brow furrowing as he finally chases his own release.

“_Felix_,” Dimitri groans, fingertips digging so hard into Felix’s flesh that he knows he’ll see the marks as clear as day when he wakes up tomorrow. He has never voiced it, but he treasures each and every mark that Dimitri leaves on his body – he suspects that Dimitri knows, anyway.

Dimitri comes with a muffled swear and Felix relishes in the sensation of Dimitri’s cock pulsing inside him, hot and wet and perfect.

For a few moments, they simply stay standing like that, Felix closing his eyes against the water steadily beating down on him as he feels Dimitri’s breath even out. He’s so close to dozing off when Dimitri kisses him on the temple and says. “I’m going to set you down now, okay?”

At least no one else is around to see him pout, Felix thinks, and reluctantly lets go of Dimitri. They rinse off quickly and Felix does a half-assed job of drying himself off before he all but sprints to bed. 

It’s not the appropriate time for bed, but Felix doesn’t care. All he wants is to sleep, tucked against Dimitri’s solid frame, and he’s happy to see that Dimitri is aboard his train of thought. They fall together naturally, Dimitri reaching out to tuck Felix into his side before arranging the covers over their shoulders. 

The last thing Felix hears before sleep overtakes him is, “Love you. Sweet dreams, Felix.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry (not sorry) that my first fic for them is porn  
(i write for fire emblem under the pseud @Astrals!)


	8. genderbend; sekai

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinks: genderbend, public sex, squirting

Her feet land solidly on the ground and Sehun beams up at the crowd, not a single strand of silky hair out of place despite pulling off a perfect double full. The stands are packed with students, faculty, and family members alike, all gathered to watch the biggest track and field event in the school year. 

The track team is largely regarded as the best in the nation, a reputation that has been kept for close to a decade. So when Sehun says that she’s insanely proud of her girlfriend for being the top sprinter that the team boasts, she is _ proud. _ Adrenaline flows through her veins – being able to cheer Jongin on is always such a thrill, and Jongin never fails to show her appreciation when they’re home alone. 

After all, the cheer team is also known nationwide. They’ve got more than a few national championships under their belt, and Sehun has had the privilege to be the team’s co-captain for the second year in a row. Too tall to be a flyer, Sehun had naturally found her place as a tumbler, quickly establishing her spot as one of the best ever since her tryouts as a freshman. 

Between the two teams, it’s unsurprising that they draw such a crowd. 

An air horn sounds, signalling the start of the event, and Sehun gets down from Chanyeol’s shoulders to grab her trusty pom poms. If she squints, she can make out Jongin’s frame in the distance, preoccupied with her warm-up stretches. Sinfully long legs clad in spandex shorts, sports bra showing off those abs, ebony hair pulled up into a high pony…she’s gorgeous, and she’s Sehun’s. 

Watching Jongin on the track is akin to a religious experience. The sheer power in her thighs and the determination plastered on her face when she pushes off the starting blocks always has Sehun’s heart beating double time. 

Sehun cheers Jongin on from the sidelines, bouncing on the balls of her feet as the runners bullet past her to the finish line. Her energy is infectious, and it isn’t long before all the other cheerleaders join her, pom poms wavinig in the air. 

When Jongin breezes past the finish line, easily cinching a gold, Sehun screams in joy.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Freshly showered with her hair a fluffy, blow-dried mess piled into a bun atop her head, Sehun slings her sports bag over her shoulder and traipses back out to the track. It’s empty now, with only a couple of the field lights still switched on. Everyone has either gone home or are about to, but not her. 

The metal of the bleachers are cold against the back of her bare thighs, so Sehun balls up her cheer team jacket and sits on that instead. As she waits, Sehun watches a few practice videos of the routine the team has been working on, ready to note down the areas that need improvement and extra practice. 

She’s on her third watch-through when her ears pick up the sound of footsteps. 

“Hey babe,” Jongin calls, rounding the corner. She waves up at Sehun, who happily returns the gesture. “Sorry for the wait, Coach wanted a lot of team pictures and I couldn’t find my shampoo for the longest time.”

Jongin looks so comfy in her fitted sweatpants and yet another sports bra (she cannot live without sports bras) that Sehun instantly craves for a cuddle. 

The moment Jongin’s bag hits the ground, Sehun reaches up for her and pulls her down. 

“I love your hair like this,” Jongin quips, squeezing the bun. “So cute.” She gives Sehun a nice big kiss on the cheek. 

Sehun hums and burrows into Jongin’s warmth. “You did amazing today.” 

“Didn’t break my own record though,” Jongin sighs, a pout on her full lips. 

“You will,” Sehun says, voice laced with all the confidence in the world. 

Jongin chuckles, sounding stupidly fond, and hefts Sehun closer until she’s all but sprawled across Jongin’s lap. It’s hard to be comfortable on the bleachers, but with their sports bags as pillows and jackets as padding, they make do just fine. 

“You’re not chilly?”

She sets a hand on Sehun’s thigh, fingers just nudging under the pleats of her skirt. 

“You can keep me warm,” Sehun says with a cheeky grin. “Right?”

They come out to the bleachers like this whenever they have the chance, usually when Jongin has a home event or when Sehun has cheer commitments for teams using the field. It’s nice, having all this open space to themselves, because the studio apartment they share can feel a little too cramped sometimes. 

Also, Sehun thoroughly enjoys public sex. This way, she gets what she wants, they both get laid, and Jongin doesn’t have to worry about other (undeserving) people laying eyes on her girlfriend. 

With a little readjustment, Sehun settles on Jongin’s lap, a thigh on either side of slim hips. 

“You know, your butt looks really cute when you run.”

“Your butt looks really cute when you’re in the splits.”

Sehun laughs, a bright sound that always pierces straight through Jongin’s heart. She snuggles close and Jongin keeps her there, arms wound around Sehun’s tiny waist. 

“Give me a kiss,” Sehun demands, lips already looking like Jongin’s spent an hour nibbling on them. Jongin’s gonna make that reality. She leans in, lips sliding over that cute mouth, humming when Sehun opens to let Jongin lick inside.

“You taste like strawberries,” Jongin mumbles, a hand flying up to cradle the base of Sehun’s skull. “Delicious.”

“Don’t need your five a day when you’ve got me,” Sehun sing-songs, angling her head so Jongin can press kisses to the side of her throat. 

“Don’t need anything else when I’ve got you,” Jongin agrees.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Jongin plays with the smooth edge of Sehun’s panties, the fabric just slightly see-through where it stretches over her hip bones. Sehun’s looking mighty pleased, leaning back against Jongin’s propped up thighs and basking in the attention that her girlfriend is showering upon her. 

Her skirt’s flipped up and her top has long since been tossed aside, leaving Sehun in her push-up bra (that Jongin insists she doesn’t need because small titties are cute, damnit!). 

There’s faint music coming from Jongin’s phone and Sehun lets her eyes flutter shut, senses honing in on the beat and the teasing brush of Jongin’s fingers over the sensitive skin of her belly, over the creases where thigh meets pelvis. It doesn’t take much to rev her up, not when it comes to Jongin. Once, all it took was Jongin’s mouth on her neck for her to come in her panties, thighs trembling and pussy clenching. Jongin never lets her forget that day. 

Wordlessly, Jongin reaches up and around to unhook Sehun’s bra. It falls down, revealing perky breasts and equally perky nipples. Gazes locked, Jongin licks the pad of her thumb to wet it, then brings it down to a nipple. Sehun squirms at the touch, each brush of Jongin’s thumb over her nipple sending shocks down between her legs. She’s already wet, she can feel it. 

“C’mere,” Jongin murmurs, lashes framing those dark eyes so beautifully. Sehun exhales and leans down, tits pushed up into Jongin’s face. She sees the anticipation in Jongin’s eyes, sees how she wets her lips, sees her eyelids flutter shut when she takes a nipple into her mouth. Sehun shudders, hyper-focused on the pleasure that is Jongin’s tongue flicking over the bud in her mouth. 

“They get so swollen so fast,” Jongin says, pulling off Sehun’s tit just to say that. Sehun whines, heat in her cheeks, because it’s true. One suggestive touch from Jongin can have her nipples pebbling, an issue whenever Sehun wants to go out without a bra. It can get downright obscene, and while it makes Jongin smug as hell, Sehun would like to go grocery shopping without people staring at her chest, thank you very much. 

Sehun grinds down on Jongin’s belly, moaning when one of Jongin’s hands cups the swell of her ass and squeezes. 

“Could suck your tits all day,” Jongin groans, switching over to the other nipple. 

Sehun, already half-delirious from how good it feels, reaches down to palm at Jongin’s chest. She can’t get Jongin’s sports bra off without pulling the runner off her nipple, so she shoves the garment up around Jongin’s sternum instead. Jongin’s breasts rest perfectly in the cups of her palms; when they’re home, Sehun loves playing with them, squeezing at the flesh like they’re stress balls. A pinch to Jongin’s nipple has the grip on Sehun’s ass tightening. 

“Jong_in _,” Sehun pleads, all needy. “I’m achy.”

One final suck and Jongin pulls back, lips flushed red and wet. Sehun feels another pulse of wetness trickle out of her at the sight. 

“Okay, let me take care of that for you?” 

Sehun nods eagerly, hips lifting to let Jongin shimmy her panties down until they bunch around her knees. With her flexibility, it takes no time at all for Sehun to wriggle them all the way off. Jongin grabs the piece of fabric before it can hit the ground and presses it to her face, taking a deep inhale that has Sehun’s pussy clenching around nothing. 

“You smell so good,” Jongin murmurs, tucking the panties safely into her bag. Sehun whimpers.

Finally, _ finally _, Jongin sets her thumb against Sehun’s core, digit wedged neatly between her pussy lips. She rubs down once, pulling a moan out of Sehun, and promptly pulls away. Jongin lifts her thumb up – the light bounces off the wetness on the skin and Jongin pops it into her mouth, groaning at the taste of Sehun’s juices. 

There’s already a small wet spot forming on Jongin’s sweats where Sehun’s pussy is touching. Jongin doesn’t give a damn. 

“Spread your legs a bit more?”

Sehun’s quick to comply, nipples straining even more when she feels her pussy open like a flower with the movement.

“God, this view…” Jongin hones in on her little clit, thumb rubbing around the electric nub until Sehun’s gasping for air and bucking up into the touch. This isn’t the best angle for something more, but Jongin likes to watch her fingers rubbing at Sehun’s pink folds, spreading wetness everywhere. 

When Sehun’s trembling, orgasm looming in the horizon, Jongin manhandles her around. Once Sehun’s back is pressed up against her front, Jongin spreads Sehun’s legs open with her knees and plunges two fingers into her sopping pussy. The sounds are music to her ears, the wet slaps of her palm against Sehun’s pubic mound something she lives for. 

“Oh fuck, Jongin, yes yes _ yes, _” Sehun cries, cunt clenching around Jongin’s fingers. “More, please please please –”

A third finger and Jongin has to kiss her to swallow her scream. She keeps her free hand on Sehun’s tit, thumb strumming at a nipple, and it doesn’t take long before Sehun orgasms with a pinched moan of Jongin’s name. She comes with a full-body shudder, squirting around Jongin’s fingers, pussy fluttering as pleasure crashes all around her. 

Jongin’s own pussy throbs at the sensation of Sehun’s wetness dripping down her hand and wetting her pants. She can’t get enough of this girl in her arms, all cheerful and kind and effortlessly sexy. She’s already decided – once they’re old enough, she’s gonna put a ring on her. 

“C’mon baby,” Jongin says as soon as Sehun gets her breath back. “Stand up for me? I wanna taste you, get you clean.”

She eases her fingers out of Sehun with a wet squelch, popping them into her mouth as Sehun struggles upright. 

“So good,” she moans around her mouthful, “god, Sehun, you always taste so fucking good.”

Once Sehun’s standing, Jongin pulls her hips over her face. She stares up at Sehun’s glistening pussy, at the swollen lips and engorged clit, the insides of her thighs all wet. Leaning up, Jongin runs the flat of her tongue greedily along the entirety of Sehun’s cunt, gathering up the taste of her. Sehun moans, thighs trembling, sobbing into her fist when Jongin spears the tip of her tongue inside. 

“Gonna go home and fuck you good,” Jongin promises, giving Sehun one last lap. The cheerleader can easily come for a second time, but they don’t have all the time in the world to spend out here. 

“Mmkay,” Sehun mumbles. She wobbles over to the edge of the bleachers and hops down to the bottom row, where she turns and steps in between Jongin’s knees. “Lemme eat you out first.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Her underwear is hanging off one ankle and her sports bra is still pushed up around her chest as Sehun goes to town between her legs. 

Sehun’s mouth is hot and wet and sinful, that skillful tongue sliding over her entrance and up over her clit. When Sehun seals her lips around Jongin’s clit and sucks, tongue fluttering over the nub, Jongin arches and moans into the night, a hand shooting down to hold Sehun’s head in place. 

Her stamina is just as good going down on Jongin as it is during comps, if the steady way Sehun’s tongue is lapping at Jongin’s cunt is any indication. She doesn’t let up, not for a split second, and it takes an embarrasingly short amount of time before Jongin is coming, thighs clamping down on either sides of Sehun’s head. 

“Sehun –”

Sehun’s response is to force Jongin’s thighs apart and continue eating her out. 

“Sehun, wait –”

Her tongue dips into Jongin’s entrance, pushing in hot and delving deeper. Jongin grabs onto the edge of her bag and grinds up into Sehun’s face, moaning brokenly when she feels a finger rubbing hard at her clit as Sehun continues fucking her with her tongue. 

The second orgasm comes in record time and leaves Jongin temporarily at a loss for words. Sehun licks her through the aftershocks, slow passes of her tongue over where Jongin’s puffy and sore. 

Her nose and chin are shiny when she finally pulls back, pupils blown and a proud smirk on his face. She looks fucking gorgeous. 

Needing a bit of time to catch her breath, Jongin stays where she is, legs still open and pussy still sensitive. Sehun wipes her face clean, absently pinching at her nipples while dropping sweet kisses up the inside of Jongin’s thigh. 

“One day, I’m gonna make you come five times in a row on my tongue.”

Jongin feels her pussy clench at the thought. “F-five?”

“Just one more than our record,” Sehun says cheerfully. “Should be easy!”

Jongin huffs out a laugh.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
“Do you really think I don’t have a spare pair of pants,” Jongin says, pulling said spare on. “I’ve learned to always have spare clothes around, especially when you’re always gagging for my fingers in you.” 

Sehun flushes prettily, the colour deepening when Jongin returns her panties, still damp from earlier. 

“Um.”

Jongin tilts her head. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s not comfortable,” she mumbles. “Ugh, I should’ve brought a spare pair…”

“Why would it be uncomfortable..?”

“I’m still wet,” Sehun says, shy. “I don’t like feeling damp fabirc against my pussy when I’m wet.”

Jongin swallows, mouth suddenly dry. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”

Silence, wherein they stare at each other, Sehun’s panties still in bunched up in Jongin’s hand. They’re going home now, there’s no doubt about that, but Sehun can tell that Jongin wishes they could spend another thirty minutes out here. 

“Okay," Jongin says eventually. She clears her throat and puts the panties back into her bag. “Your skirt’s long enough.”

“Yeah.” With a small smile, Sehun turns to go, but she only makes it a few steps before Jongin stops her with a hand to the shoulder.

“Let me just…” 

Sehun gasps when she feels a warm hand slide under her skirt. A long finger parts her folds and dips inside, collecting her wetness on its tip. Then Jongin retracts her hand and sucks her finger clean. 

“Still wet,” she confirms. Sehun shivers. 

“Home,” Sehun breathes. “Want you to fuck me.”

Jongin thinks of their favourite strap-on resting inside their bedside drawer and grins. “Anything you want, babe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @ me at twitter (_seiros) if you want a drabble ;D


	9. nipple play/overstimulation; jaewoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> university!au, surfers!jaewoo
> 
> (+ multiple orgasms just because i can)

It’s his third day waking up in this beach town and Jaehyun wants to give his past self a hug for deciding to vacation here instead of in some metropolis. Salt lingers in the air and his skin is perpetually warm with the sun’s rays, and he’s already dreading the day he has to leave this place and return to a life of dissertations and boring lectures. 

With a long, leisurely stretch, Jaehyun rolls out of bed and throws a pillow at Mark’s head on the way to the bathroom. His friend startles awake at the contact and Jaehyun laughs. It takes another fifteen minutes for Mark to wrestle Johnny awake, but they all manage to get ready and dressed before the breakfast buffet ends. 

After a quick pit stop back at the villa for their boards, the trio head out to the beach. 

It’s already packed with people, but Jaehyun leads the way to a quieter section of the beach that he’d discovered the day before thanks to a friendly local. 

“I think,” Johnny says, flopping down onto the sand, “that all I’m gonna do today is lie on my board and float in the shallows. I have never been this sore.”

“Build a sandcastle with me instead,” Mark suggests. “Ooh, or let me give you sand boobs.”

Jaehyun looks over at his friends and snorts at the look of contemplation on Johnny’s face. He wriggles out of his shirt, takes a drink of water, and hoists his board back into his arms. 

“You guys do that, I’m gonna catch a wave.”

Being on a board out in the open sea is so therapeutic for him – Jaehyun had learned how to surf as a child, but living in a city means that he doesn’t get the chance to surf as much as he’d like. 

So whenever he has a chance to, he’ll take a trip to a place with gorgeous beaches, sometimes travelling solo when friends or family are unable to join him. It’s freeing, having the swell of the ocean chase after him, wind whipping through his hair and leaving his skin stinging with salt crystals. The waves shoulder his burdens for him, from academic responsibilities to struggling relationships, always there, never abandoning. 

He returns to the shore after a couple of hours, squinting against the light bouncing off the sand. Grains stick to the soles of his feet, the heat a stark contrast to the coolness of the water. He finds his friends under the beach umbrella, Johnny indeed with a pair of sand boobs that he cups absently as they chat.

Mark has a half-finished bottle of beer in his hands, condensation dripping off the base. Another bottle, empty, sits by Johnny’s side.

“Want more beer?” Jaehyun sticks his board into the sand and shoves his hair out of his eyes. “I’ll go get a few more.”

And so he heads back towards the main area of the beach, towards one of the many bars dotted along the coast. Tourists are everywhere, and Jaehyun has to be careful not to accidentally step on some kid’s sandcastle. He locks eyes with a group of college girls, ears flushing red when one winks at him; he nods at them, polite, and continues on his way. 

Surprisingly, there isn’t a line at the bar.

He studies the list of available beers and flags down a bartender once he’s made his choice. His order, however, fizzles out on his tongue when the prettiest guy he’s ever seen springs up to him. 

Sunkissed skin, sun-streaked hair, and the brightest smile. As if that isn’t enough, the guy’s shirtless and Jaehyun doesn’t know if he should be staring at the metal barbells going through dusky nipples or the taut, smooth lines of muscle gracing his abdomen. 

“Hello! What can I get you?”

“Uh,” Jaehyun says, blinking at him. His mouth acts before his brain does, and he’s absolutely horrified to hear the two words, “Your name,” come out. 

The bartender’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline and Jaehyun wants to bury himself in the sand. He’s a second away from turning around and sprinting back to the relative safety of his friends when he hears the loveliest laugh. 

“My name is Jungwoo. Yours?”

“...Jaehyun.”

“Okay, Jaehyun.” Jungwoo grins, leaning close with his elbows propped up on the bar counter. “Let’s try this again. What can I get you?”

This time, Jaehyun manages to place his order without embarrassing himself and Jungwoo laughs once more before turning to get the beers. Jaehyun sets a twenty dollar bill down, the bill slightly damp with residual water on his hands, but Jungwoo refuses to accept it. 

“On the house,” he says, eyes twinkling. “You can pay for the next round, so you’d better come back.”

After a whole night of restless sleep, mind brimming with images of smooth skin and a cheeky smile, Jaehyun wakes with an itch that he simply has to scratch. 

Which is why he finds himself walking back to the bar, having left (ditched, really) his friends behind to deal with their paddleboards and paddles. 

He spots Jungwoo easily in the throng of people, thanks to the guy being half a head taller than everyone in his immediate vicinity. The bartender’s chatting to a couple, hands busy as he mixes drinks, and Jaehyun watches as Jungwoo laughs, eyes crinkling. 

There’s a space that he can just about squeeze into and Jaehyun waits there, a laminated menu in hand that he pretends to be really absorbed in. He actually does end up reading through the list of cocktails, attention only stolen away when he smells a faintly floral scent.

“You’re back,” Jungwoo says, sounding delighted. Jaehyun clears his throat.

“Yes, I am.”

“What’s your poison of choice today?”

Jaehyun tracks a drop of sweat that rolls down Jungwoo’s neck into the valley between his clavicles and narrowly stops himself from saying: you.

“Hm, surprise me? As long as I return with three cocktails.”

With a thoughtful hum, Jungwoo picks up a cocktail shaker and points it at Jaehyun. “You got it. Three, huh? Here with family?”

“Two of my best friends,” Jaehyun says, eyes following Jungwoo’s movements as he pours out various alcohols and mixes into the shaker. “Don’t want to let the last few weeks of summer vacation go to waste.”

“Ah, yeah, I understand.” He pours out a pale blue liquid into a glass and sets that on the counter. “I would do that too, but unfortunately, I’m stuck working here.” He rinses out the shaker, then looks up at Jaehyun through his lashes. “But it’s not too bad, I suppose. I meet some interesting people this way.”

Rendered momentarily speechless – _is he flirting? oh god what if he’s flirting? please be flirting!_ – Jaehyun can only watch Jungwoo prepare the second drink and relish in the amused smile playing along his lips. 

“Do you surf?”

Jaehyun can’t help the little skip his heart does at the mention of surfing. “Yeah I do, I love it. You?”

“Kinda have to,” Jungwoo chuckles, “part and parcel of growing up in this town. It’s the step after learning how to walk, you know?”

The second drink is poured out, this one a bright yellow. Jaehyun thinks Johnny would like it. 

Jungwoo looks at him, head tilted. “Do you have plans tomorrow night?”

“Not after dinner, no.” Okay, that’s a lie, but he knows his friends will be understanding. It’s rare for Jaehyun to take an interest in someone, after all, and there’s no avoiding that he is very much interested in Jungwoo. They’re bros, they’ll understand!

“Would you be interested in a late-night surf?”

“The beach is open?”

An easy smile, followed by a shrug of broad shoulders. “No, but I work here.” 

“Okay,” Jaehyun agrees, and Jungwoo’s eyes don’t stray from his even as he fixes the last of the three drinks.

Later, Jaehyun returns to his friends with the drinks and says, a little dumbfounded, “I think I have a date tomorrow?” 

Mark chokes on his drink. 

  
Due to having signed up for a day trip around some of the nearby islands, Jaehyun doesn’t get to spend any money on overpriced alcohol the next day (a.k.a. he doesn’t get to see Jungwoo). They have fun though, wading through shallow pools and taking a whole bunch of photos, and Jaehyun very much treasures the time he gets to spend with his best friends. 

Mark’s ears are sunburnt by the time they return to their villa and Jaehyun can still taste the seawater that had shot up his nose when Johnny unceremoniously yanked him into the waters, but their bellies are sore from laughter and Johnny’s phone is out of battery thanks to how much video footage he’d filmed. 

_A very good day,_ Jaehyun thinks, and heads into the shower to rinse off. 

For dinner, they venture out into town and roam the streets, drifting between various establishments until they come across one that piques their collective interest. They get some souvenir shopping done afterwards, taking the chance to explore more of the quaint beachside town as their dinners digest. Mark befriends a little girl who wants to share her popsicle with him and Johnny buys a can of tuna for a stray cat; Jaehyun finds himself in charge of the camera throughout.

The moon is high in the sky and before Jaehyun knows it, it’s half-past nine. He gives himself fifteen minutes to change into his board shorts and endure his friends’ harmless teasing before he has to leave for the beach. 

“Have fun,” Mark calls, leaning against the sliding doors of their villa’s balcony. 

“Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do!”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes, lips quirked, and trudges off. 

They’d agreed to meet by the bar, so Jaehyun heads in that direction, enjoying the sensation of cool, soft sand beneath his feet. The beach is quiet but not deserted; he sees a few silhouettes dotted along the coast; couples taking moonlit strolls, a fitness buff churning out a few circuits in the sand. No one seems to be in the waters though.

Jungwoo is already at the bar when he gets there, still shirtless but clad in his own board shorts. A surfboard is propped up against the closed bar, and despite the lack of illumination, Jaehyun can tell that the board is a neon green, patterned with something yellow and equally bright. 

The bartender’s gazing out at the sea, moonlight caressing the sharp lines and soft curves of his face. It seems to cling to his lashes, and each blink has pale light sliding down and away. 

“Hello,” Jungwoo says, voice softer to suit the night. “How was your day?”

“Good.” Jaehyun shoves his board into the sand and studies the other’s profile. “Yours?”

“Hm, uneventful.” He glances over at Jaehyun, smiling when he spots the other already looking. “Should change from here on out though, I think. Come on, I know a bay nearby that’s good for night surfing. Good light, no rocks, always empty.” 

Jungwoo leads him over to a dune buggy, the white paint almost glowing under the moonbeams. “It’s just a five-minute ride down that way,” he says, gesturing in one direction. “If it wasn’t such a hassle to drag surfboards along, I wouldn’t bother with this.”

The buggy is small, with barely enough space for their boards and legs. Their knees knock, but Jungwoo doesn’t seem to mind, so Jaehyun turns his attention out towards the passing beach instead. 

They turn into a driveway moments later, driving past a couple of houses along the road and down towards the beach.

“This is my friend’s summer house,” Jungwoo says, nodding at the house closest to the beach. “I use this stretch of beach all the time, since they’re only here a couple of months during the year. They let me have free reign of the place whenever they’re away. It’s private property, so tourists in general wouldn’t be able to access this place.” He turns the engine off and hops out. “I don’t typically bring people here either,” Jungwoo adds, eyes glimmering. He walks over to the side of the house, and moments later, a couple of lights fixed to the wall flickers on. It drenches the area in a warm, orange glow. “So, you know, count yourself special.”

“I will,” Jaehyun says, grabbing his board. “I will be forever grateful.”

Jungwoo laughs, the sound carrying out into the waves. Together, they head towards the ocean. It’s bright enough for them to see, moonlight combined with the lights coming from the house, and the privacy of it all makes it feel as though they are the only two people in the world, surrounded by saltwater and an infinite expanse of inky sky. 

As expected, Jungwoo is a natural on his board. He’s solid, quads barely containing their strength as he guides his board into waves. They don’t get any huge waves, but that’s alright; there’s a beauty to coasting leisurely towards the shore, after all. 

He’s riding a wave back when he sees Jungwoo sprawled out on the sand, skin wet and chest heaving. Moonlight reflects off his piercings and Jaehyun momentarily wonders if the jewellery is warm from his body or cold from the waters. 

“Taking a break?”

Jungwoo peers up at him. “My stamina is clearly not as good as yours.”

Jaehyun joins him on the sand, elbows resting on bent knees. “Beg to disagree, I was about to take a break anyway.”

That earns him a laugh. 

They lounge on the beach in companionable silence for a while, until Jungwoo breaks it by getting to his feet and brushing sand off his ass.

“Wanna go for a swim instead?”

Jaehyun lets Jungwoo pull him to his feet and towards the ocean, the other’s fingers warm around the boniest part of his wrist, pinky pressing right into his pulse point. They wade into the lapping waves, still connected, and Jungwoo doesn’t let go until they’re chest-deep. 

“See that rock there?” He points to the near distance. “Race you!”

“Wha– _Hey_, that’s cheating!”

  
For the next few days, he meets Jungwoo every night at the bar, and they drive to their own private beach. They surf, swim, build some ugly sandcastles, sometimes with a couple of beers. Mark and Johnny join them once, and Jaehyun feels an odd sense of satisfaction when he sees the three of them get along so well.

His friends, however, vehemently oppose joining them for a second time. 

“Don’t wanna fourth wheel,” Johnny says firmly. 

“Don’t wanna fourth wheel,” Mark agrees. 

Jaehyun is torn between feeling indignant that his friends don’t want to spend time with him or embarrassed that whatever connection he has with Jungwoo is bad enough that his friends are unable to handle it. 

Okay, fine, there is something there between them; Jaehyun isn’t that out of touch with his own feelings. He likes to believe that he isn’t oblivious when it comes to reading signs, either. But it’s not like they’ll get anywhere with this, right? Jaehyun’s due to fly home in less than two days, leaving this town and all the memories behind. 

“You know,” Jungwoo says tonight, one foot buried in the sand as he lies on his board, bobbing with the rhythmic movement of the shallow waters. “I just realised I never asked for your number.”

“I can tell you my number now,” Jaehyun replies, sloshing through shin-deep water, back and forth, back and forth. “Is your memory good?”

Jungwoo snorts. “Give it to me before you leave, okay?”

“Yeah. ‘Course.”

A wave nudges him closer to Jungwoo’s side and Jaehyun looks down at his friend’s (?) prone body, at the water sluicing over skin lit pale in the night, hair floating softly around his head like a halo. 

Jungwoo meets his gaze and he blinks once, slow and heady. 

“Come,” he says suddenly, rolling off the board. The sodden fabric of his board shorts clings to the muscles of his legs, the curve of his ass. Jaehyun follows. It seems like that’s part of their dynamic; Jungwoo leading, Jaehyun following, but always on the same footing. 

Jungwoo stops by the outdoor shower and twists the spray on, standing under the water for twenty seconds to rinse off all the sand and seawater. Once he’s done, Jaehyun does the same. 

“Are we really allowed in?” Jaehyun asks, watching Jungwoo fiddle with the keypad to the door. 

“Don’t worry, I come in once a week to tend to their plants and make sure the place doesn’t get too dusty. I grew up with this family; they’re like my in-laws, except without the stress of in-laws.” Jungwoo flicks on the hall lights, disarms the alarm, and shuts the door behind them. 

“Oh, okay. So what are we –” All the air in his lungs rushes out in one breath when he’s shoved up against the closed door, Jungwoo’s lips suddenly just a few inches away from his own. He can smell the ocean on himself, on Jungwoo, in the air between them, and –

“We’re doing this,” Jungwoo says, and presses their mouths together. 

_This is good_, Jaehyun thinks foggily, fingers digging into the jut of Jungwoo’s hips. _He can get onboard with this. He’s _totally_ onboard with this!_

“Not that I’m complaining,” Jaehyun says in-between kisses, “but what brought this on?”

He gets a nip to his bottom lip and a hand curling around the back of his neck, fingertips brushing over the short bristles of his undercut. The light touch has goosebumps rising on his arms and Jaehyun tugs Jungwoo a little closer. 

“I’ve wanted to do this since you asked for my name.”

Because he’s a competitive asshole, Jaehyun says: “Ah, so I win.” 

Jungwoo pulls back to frown in confusion.

“I’ve wanted to do this since I saw you,” Jaehyun clarifies, “and I saw you first.”

A sound of surprise, disbelief, and amusement lodges pushes out of Jungwoo’s throat. “Really?” 

“Mm,” Jaehyun confirms, and pulls Jungwoo’s mouth back onto his. He lets a hand roam up the expanse of Jungwoo’s back, feeling warm skin and the faint bumps of his vertebrae, stopping to curl his fingers into Jungwoo’s hair. He tugs, once, and the hitch of breath he hears is music to his ears. Jungwoo’s mouth falls open and Jaehyun takes the chance to lick in, tasting the salt that seems to perpetually cling to Jungwoo’s entire being. Hm, what if he...

“What else?” Jungwoo asks as soon as his mouth is free. Jaehyun fixes him with a look, then leans in to lick a broad stripe up Jungwoo’s neck, stopping right behind his ear to suck. Yeah, salt. 

He’s rewarded with a very pliant body pressed up against his and his brain promptly short circuits when he registers 1) nipples piercings and 2) a very firm erection. Jaehyun is overcome with the need to do something about either #1 or #2, but preferably #3: both, so he grabs Jungwoo by the waist and half-carries, half-penguin walks him back towards the couch. 

It’s an uncoordinated mess, but they don’t fall off the couch or knee each other in the balls, so Jaehyun considers it a success. He’s comfortable enough where he is, settled (a.k.a. slightly squished, this is a _small_ couch) between Jungwoo’s legs, and he doesn’t give the other guy any warning before he dips low and draws a perked nipple into his mouth. 

Jungwoo, taken completely by surprise, lets out an aborted shriek that devolves rapidly into a whine. More, Jaehyun thinks, mouth too preoccupied to actually voice what he wants. The piercing warms up quickly against his tongue and Jaehyun rolls the bud between his teeth, blood singing when Jungwoo arches up into him and utters more delicious noises. 

“Sensitive?”

“Very,” Jungwoo breathes, “it’s why I got them pierced. I wanted to see if I could come with just having them played with; waiting for them to heal took an entire lifetime’s worth of patience out of me.” 

Everything Jungwoo said after ‘...just have them played with’ goes in one ear and out the other. 

“And could you?”

Jungwoo laughs. “You could find out.”

Fine. He will, just because it’s an answer he _needs_. 

He thumbs at both nipples, flicks at the barbells and twists them ever so gently, marvelling at how the skin flushes a shade darker from all the attention. 

“Will it hurt if I bite them?”

Judging from the way Jungwoo’s pupils dilate, the answer is either _no_, or _yes, but I don’t care_. So Jaehyun, suddenly very aware of how his cock aches, leans down to bite at one. Jungwoo shudders underneath him, hips rocking up in search of friction, and Jaehyun wishes their board shorts weren’t damp. He’d love to know if Jungwoo’s – wait, he can. 

Another bite, the nipple so tight and swollen against his tongue that he can almost feel each individual groove in the skin. Jaehyun soothes the sting with the flat of his tongue; one lick, then two, then a kiss. 

“Take this off,” he says, pulling on Jungwoo’s board shorts. “If you’re really gonna come like this, I want to see it.”

It’s another uncoordinated mess, Jaehyun having to roll off the couch in order to let Jungwoo kick off his shorts. He strips as well, ego swelling just the slightest when he catches sight of Jungwoo staring (rather hungrily) between his legs. Nudging Jungwoo to the side, Jaehyun takes a seat and hauls Jungwoo onto his lap. When he looks down, he sees the wet sheen on the head of Jungwoo’s cock. 

There’s the answer to his latest question; Jungwoo _is_ wet.

Light glints off the piercings, now at a convenient mouth-level, and Jaehyun immediately latches onto one. He thumbs at the other, slow to match the speed of his tongue flicking across the nipple in his mouth.

But slow, it seems, is not in Jungwoo’s dictionary, because he’s demanding for more in no time.

“Pull on them,” he whispers, hoarse. “Please, I’m so close.”

Jaehyun obeys, switching sides just so he can enjoy the sensation of spit-slick skin under his fingers as he plucks at the nipple, mindful not to pull on the actual jewellery. He’s held in place with one of Jungwoo’s hands on the back of his head, so close to his heart that Jaehyun can feel the rabbit-quick staccato of his pulse and the vibrations when he moans. 

He hums around his small mouthful, scrapes the blunt edge of his nail across the peak of a nipple, and bites. 

Jungwoo comes without any warning whatsoever, pulsing hot and white between their bodies, and Jaehyun regretfully pulls away to look. It’s gorgeous, Jungwoo’s torso decorated with translucent streaks, abs tense and cock twitching. His nipples are so swollen; they must be horribly sore. 

“Good?”

“Mm,” Jungwoo exhales, a hand closing around the shaft of his cock. Jaehyun watches him squeeze out one last drop of come. “So good.”

“Yeah?” He flicks a nipple, watches as Jungwoo bites his lip at the shot of oversensitivity. “Looks like you can come from just having them played with, after all. I have another question.”

Jungwoo raises a brow, grabbing Jaehyun’s free hand to set it close to the other nipple. Hint taken, Jaehyun brushes the pad of his thumb over it.

“Can you come _again_ from just having them played with?”

  
The answer to that question, as it turns out, is yes. 

Jaehyun doesn’t go easy on him at all, abusing the poor buds until there are tears running down Jungwoo’s face, the latter begging Jaehyun to stop at one second but to “suck harder, please, oh my god,” at another. 

He comes for the second time with a sob, hips jerking.

“Fuck me,” he mutters, sounding drunk and needy and _fuck_, Jaehyun wants. 

Dipping into the come left puddling on his skin, Jaehyun reaches around and rubs at Jungwoo’s hole, smearing the man’s own essence into his skin. The tip of his finger slips in and Jungwoo sighs into his neck. 

“There’s lube under these cushions,” he says. “Somewhere.”

“You put it there?”

Jungwoo snakes a hand between them and pulls on Jaehyun’s painfully neglected cock. “Of course. Wasn’t gonna let a lack of lube prevent me from sitting on this.”

“So you planned all this?”

“Not all of this,” Jungwoo admits, wriggling back onto Jaehyun’s finger until it slides in to the first knuckle, dry save for the tackiness of come. “I didn’t plan the previous two orgasms.”

It takes a bit of blind fumbling, but Jaehyun finds the lube and a couple of condoms lodged between the couch cushions. He squeezes out too much lube, but Jungwoo doesn’t seem to mind, moaning into Jaehyun’s ear when a slick finger breaches him completely. 

“More, I can take it. I’ve come twice, I feel nothing apart from good.”

Even so, Jaehyun sticks with one finger until the glide is truly easy. Then he eases in another, palm slapping obscenely against the curve of Jungwoo’s ass as he fucks his fingers in and out. 

When Jungwoo starts to squirm, he adds a third finger.

“Just let me sit on your dick,” Jungwoo groans, forehead pressed to Jaehyun’s shoulder, “you’re not gonna hurt me, I swear. It’ll be good, I really want to feel this tomorrow, you know? I wonder how many tourists are gonna notice the state of my nipples; I won’t be able to wear a shirt. Or maybe I will, just so I’ll think of you whenever the fabric starts to chafe – oh wait, no, I can’t get hard during my shift or –”

Jaehyun rolls a condom on with his free hand and pulls his fingers out.

“If you don’t shut up, I’m not gonna last thirty seconds.”

Looking immensely pleased with himself, Jungwoo grabs Jaehyun’s cock by the base and sinks down onto it, not stopping until Jaehyun is fully sheathed inside. Jungwoo rides him like it’s his job, his duty, his _birthright_, nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders, half-hard cock bouncing off the flat of Jaehyun’s stomach. 

It’s primal and fast and there’s no finesse whatsoever, but it’s so good that Jaehyun feels a little crazy with it all. Unable to help himself, he licks at one nipple, just a tease. Jungwoo cries out and loses his rhythm, so Jaehyun takes over, holding Jungwoo in places as he fucks up into him.

He comes with a prayer of Jungwoo’s name, sacred on his tongue, and Jungwoo follows him right over the edge for the third time, cock managing to coax out a few tiny drops of come. 

They don’t move for what feels like eons. 

“Do they hurt?”

Jungwoo, chest heaving, closes his eyes. “Yeah. But it’s just what I wanted.”

“Want me to kiss them better?”

He gets a smack to the arm. “Don’t you dare. There’s no way I can come again.”

When they’ve recovered enough to move, Jungwoo rises up on his knees, groaning when Jaehyun slips out. “C’mon, let’s rinse off.”

With legs like jelly, they pick up their discarded shorts and make their way out of the house. The spray of water is cold against their heated skin, and Jaehyun cannot resist bracketing Jungwoo between himself and the wall of the house, leaning in to steal a kiss. 

  
When he returns to the villa, Johnny and Mark take one long, contemplative look at him before breaking out into cheers. 

  
It’s his last day here; their flight is in less than ten hours and the three of them already have set plans for the rest of the day. He’ll probably be unable to catch a single wave today. 

Jaehyun has never liked returning home after a good vacation, but this time, the reluctance is so strong that it leaves him reeling. 

He writes down his name and number on a slip of paper. 

“I’ll be back in a few,” Jaehyun informs his friends before stepping into his flip flops.

Jungwoo’s there, at the bar, and his smiles when their eyes meet. Jungwoo inclines his head towards the back of the bar and Jaehyun nods, detouring around the shack. 

“Hey,” Jungwoo says, appearing around the corner. “You’re leaving?”

“In a few hours,” Jaehyun says. “Wanted to give you this.”

He hands over the paper; Jungwoo smooths a thumb over the inked numbers and folds the sheet into quarters. It disappears into his pocket. 

Jaehyun looks at him, from the artful mess of his hair to the sheen of sunscreen on his skin. His gaze dips lower; god, his nipples look so tender. 

“Touched myself in the shower this morning,” Jungwoo informs him, voice low. “Came within minutes.”

Jaehyun would have his way with him right here in the sand if he could. “You’re playing dirty,” he says, pointedly shoving his hands into his pockets. Jungwoo laughs. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

They’re silent for a moment, stuck at an impasse, unsure of where to go from here. 

“Come back next summer?”

“I will if you text me.”

Jungwoo smiles again, but Jaehyun thinks he spots a tinge of sadness in the curve of his lips this time around. 

“I will.”

“Okay. Then I’ll see you again, Jungwoo.”

“I’ll be here.”

He turns to leave, but a hand around his wrist stops him. 

“A kiss for the road?”

Jaehyun gives him a few more, just in case. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they start texting, the holiday ends and school starts back up...  
one wednesday, jaehyun exits his lecture hall and bumps into someone – he smells something VERY familiar. it's jungwoo. they study at the same university. they live in the same city. 
> 
> jungwoo smiles, radiant. jaehyun kisses him.


End file.
